He was rude to me when I first saw him, which is one of the reasons I remembered him. The other was that he was drop-dead gorgeous.
This was in the souk (Arab market) in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, one dull Saturday morning, and I was shopping for a Quran. Not some paperback English translation, but something really nice, an ornate Arabic copy I could display in my office at home.
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"I think we can dispense with these," he said, casting off his human visage. I followed suit, and we both took a few moments to stretch our wings, swish our tails and stamp our broad clawed feet, feeling the life pour back into our neglected bodies. We were the only two of our kind on Earth, and it was rare that we got an opportunity to relax into our native forms.
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"Why don't you and Clancy go fishing," my dad said.
The five of us, Uncle Ted, Aunt Bessie, Clancy, dad and me were finishing our afternoon tea in the farmhouse kitchen after unloading the fourth load of hay for the day. The new corrugated iron shed was a quarter full of hay and that was all there was room for. The rest was taken up with the farm machinery. The few horses dad still kept were in the old split log barn, which had seen better days.
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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.
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It was one of those hot and steamy tropical summers in this southern paradise that I call home. I am a heterosexual male that spends a lot of time at the gym keeping my body in shape. So that I can track the progress of my workouts, I shave my entire body, which allows me to see the definition of all of the muscles of my body. At first shaving my chest, legs and genital area was a little weird, but now I feel uncomfortable if I let any hair grow back.
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I've been on the business end of several cocks, from short skinny little rascals that barely tickled, through the average sized that served quite adequately, to a few beefy rams that were painful and threatened to split me in half. Truly, size does matter. But several factors other than cock size matter just as much for sex to be considered phenomenal. Once I was the beneficiary of a synergistic event that was so phenomenal I'll never forget it.
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Danny was killing time at the one and only shopping mall in his little town, as he did most Saturdays afternoons, when he noticed the blonde muffin. He felt the familiar ache in his groin, in his heart and in his brain as his eyes drank in the stranger's beauty.
This guy was born to induce lust; he was the kind of man that always got Danny's pulse racing: big-boned, blonde and beefy with down-home looks on an open, honest face.
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This actually happened to me tonight on my commute from work. Well, everything up to the characters getting off the bus, anyway. The rest is a fantasy. I wrote it all in a burst after getting home, so it might be a little rough, but maybe it has the immediacy of what was going through my mind. Your comments or private message are always welcome.
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WARNING-DO NOT attempt this at a furniture store near you.
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"We need new lounge furniture," Leonard said. "Our old arm chairs are looking really sad and saggy. I don't like Veronica buying furniture as she always gets something flashy and cheap and never wants to try it out properly first.
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Brian and I weren't best friends, but we shared a love for winter sports -- especially snowboarding. Our other friends bitched about the cold. Brian and I considered it a challenge, and we were always trying to out-do each other by buying the newest designs in winter sport clothing. I had jackets, pants, and underwear made of silk, wool, polar fleece, polypropylene, and just about every other thermal plastic you can name.
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